


Transferred Contact

by TroubleScout



Category: Veronica Mars (Movie 2014), Veronica Mars (TV), Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Post-Movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-15 16:45:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18077183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TroubleScout/pseuds/TroubleScout
Summary: Logan discovers Veronica kept him in her phone for 9 years.





	Transferred Contact

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to [Tumblr](http://troublescout.tumblr.com/post/130445485886/posting-this-thing-i-wrote-the-other-day-because).

 

 

 

Veronica fastens her earrings in Logan’s makeshift bedroom at Dick’s. ”Hun, do you see my phone?”

Logan ghosts behind her, leaving a kiss on her neck. She tries to temper her smile as their eyes meet in the mirror, his hand skimming off her back. “Not since this morning. I’ll check the living room.”

“Thanks, I’ll double check the comforter.“

A moment later, he yells from down the hall, “Nothing out here or in the kitchen.”

“I’m going to be so late to meet Mac.” She flops on the bed in frustration, beginning to tug on her boots.

“I’ll call it,“ he offers as he dials.

“What!?” she shouts.

“I’m calling it!”

Immediately, Veronica comes flying out of the bedroom, hoping off kilter, her second boot half on, “No, don’t worry about—“ But she’s too late, Logan has already retrieved the ringing phone from the bowels of the couch cushions and is staring at it intently. He’s transfixed by his 18-year-old face mirroring back at him. When the call screen finally switches over to voicemail, he looks up at her, mystified. His eyes are wide and boyish, genuinely touched.

Veronica straightens her spine and tries to act nonchalant as she hobbles towards him, betrayed by the deep flush blooming across her cheeks and breasts. She plucks her phone from his pliant hand, ”Thanks, I’ll just be a few hours and then I’ll see you for dinner. Thai food sound good?”

”Veronica.”  

“No? Well, Italian it is then.”

She klutzily tries to finish pulling on her boot while making her way to the door, but trips and takes a header. As she hovers above the ground staring at the floor, it takes a moment to register Logan’s taut hand across her belly straightening her up. She feels her throat constrict in further embarrassment as she speaks, “Excellent interception. I really didn’t want to have to pencil in a face planting on the agenda.”

Instead of replying verbally, his hand spreads wider across her abdomen and she begins rambling, “I mean, every girl could use a good excuse to get some work done, but contrary to widely accepted beauty norms, I’ve grown rather fond of the bump—“ He cuts her off with tender kiss as she fingers the bridge of her nose. Then barely pausing, he follows it with a searing kiss, running his hands down her body and making her whimper. He walks her backwards, leaning her over the back of the couch, his body pressing down on hers. Her precariously worn boot thuds to the floor as her legs dangle, mid-air astrid his hips.

After a minute, he straightens up, leaving her fanned out, chest heaving. “You’re on a schedule,” he reminds, de-circling her ribcage and offering her two open palms. She accepts his assistance, hauling herself up and slips down to a standing position.

“Right you are,” she begrudgingly agrees, cramming her foot into her boot again, this time with inelegant success.

“So.”

“So?” she says coyly. “Italian?”

“You kept me in your phone for nine years.”

She ducks her chin, foolishly having thought she might get out of the house with a devilishly good make-out session and no direct reference to the impetus. “Maybe,” she admits, shyly engaging with him from under a hood of lashes.

His eyes are soft and wet as he stares at her a moment, pressing his thumbs into the hollows of her hips. Eventually, his mouth quirks. “And  _that’s_  the picture you chose?” 

Her head snaps up with a guffaw and she thwaps him on the chest. “Hey, I like that picture!”

“Clearly you have questionable taste.”

“ _Clearly_ , I like you.”

“Oh, well then, obviously you have  _impeccable_  taste.”

“So cocky.” She kisses him, sliding her hands over his abdomen and then around to caress and scratch his back, wanting more.

“Apparently I have a reason to be,” he says sincerely, then kisses her neck, laving her pulse point with his tongue. “Mm, yeah,  _impeccable taste_. Maybe I should just have this for dinner.”

She smirks, “You had that for lunch.”

“I’m not picky. I could happily have another serving right now.”

Suddenly remembering Mac, she reluctantly disengages from him with a quick kiss, giving him a swat on the ass and making a retreat. “Quit it! Some of us have things to do, people to see!”

“If you miss me, I’m under ‘E’!”

She rolls her eyes, but he catches her face shining as she slips out the front door.

Logan flops back onto the couch, sinking into the soft pillows, and grins.

**Author's Note:**

> Any and all feedback is love. x


End file.
